


something borrowed

by disastermovie



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Wedding dresses!, frostyfuntime2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disastermovie/pseuds/disastermovie
Summary: They had no pins and the room had no mirror, so James could only imagine how ridiculous they must look: Sophia cupping his face, holding the veil up with only her fingers pressed to his temples. “What a handsome bride you make, James.”
Relationships: Sophia Cracroft & Commander James Fitzjames, Sophia Cracroft/Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61
Collections: janky franky's frosty fun time 2k19





	something borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> _Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue._
> 
> Written for day one of Janky Franky's Frosty Funtime 2019! Today's prompt was **snowblind**. Credit for dress descriptions goes to [Zoe](https://onetobeamup.tumblr.com/), **(update)** who's also drawn ART for this fic! You can reblog it on tumblr [here](https://spaceteenagers.tumblr.com/post/189729328991/its-nothing-i-only-thought-only-for-a-moment) (which you should ABSOLUTELY do)!

The dress had been commissioned some months ago. It was made in a delicate white silk, the fabric shining in the sunlight that streams through the church windows. James thinks of untouched snow, beautiful and blinding in its brilliance.

He’d already seen the dress. Sophia had refused to let Francis get a glimpse, wanting to wait and see his reaction at the actual ceremony, but had no such qualms about James. She’d shooed a laughing Francis out of the room, before shutting the door and taking James by the arm toward the boxes that had just been delivered that morning. She was giddy with excitement, barely stopping herself from tearing at the wrapping paper and ribbon that separated her from her prize. James had teased her about it, though he quickly fell silent when the thing was finally revealed.

He’d brushed his fingers along the bodice, wondered at the collar and waist that were lined with delicate lace, which was covered in floral embroidery. A single cameo of a white rose was pinned to the neckline. It was beautiful. Sophia would be beautiful, and James had told her so.

She grinned at him, playing with the edge of the veil in her hands. “I should hope so. It turned out so well, even Francis might appreciate it.”

“That man would appreciate a burlap sack, so long as it’s on your person.” He found it difficult to fold the dress back into the box, but he did so with care, as if he were laying an infant in a cradle. “He’ll love it, I’m sure. You’ll be stunning.”

Her smile turned soft. “Thank you, James.”

It was easy to smile back, with Sophia radiating such happiness. As he tucked the short sleeves into the corners, James imagined the feel of satin on his own skin, his body covered in a full skirt and lace trim. “You know, I-” He stopped himself, looking back down at the dress.

A gentle hand on his arm. “Go on.”

James swallowed. “It’s nothing. I only thought - only for a moment - I might be envious of you, a lovely bride in all of her finery.” He tried laughing, but it was awkward, and he grimaced. “It was a silly thought.”

Sophia gave his arm a squeeze; when he finally found the courage to look back at her, she was still smiling, though her eyes had turned sad. The sympathy in her gaze was both a relief and an embarrassment. Sophia already knew of his habits - they’d grown close since the survivors’ return, as she spent so much time with Francis then, and James had been living him all that time. Once Francis had proposed to her and let her know of his feelings - that he still loved Sophia desperately, but he also loved James, and he wouldn’t part from either of them if she accepted the arrangement - they’d grown even closer. They’d found solidarity in each other and acceptance of their deepest secrets.

It was that understanding that lead to Sophia’s boldness, then, when she grinned once more and arranged the veil on his head. “ _Sophia_ ,” James said, about to protest, but she just hushed him.

“There we are,” she declared. They had no pins and the room had no mirror, so James could only imagine how ridiculous they must look: Sophia cupping his face, holding the veil up with only her fingers pressed to his temples. “What a handsome bride you make, James.”

James felt the flush on his cheeks, even as he let his mind do the thing it was often want to do, where she let herself slip into something that was not-quite-but- _almost_ a lady. Before, it was something that she only let herself do when wearing the few treasured dresses she owned behind the safety of closed doors. Sophia and Francis made it so easy to allow herself the luxury at any time her mind leaned in a certain direction, their knowing of her like a gentle squeeze to her heart. Still… “I’m not getting married, Sophia.”

“Oh, _hush_.” James was hushed. “You practically already are, far as Francis is concerned. And I know I’ll be spending my nights with _both_ of you once I’m wed, even though you and I love each other in a different sense.” Sophia stroked James’ cheek, looking at her thoughtfully. “We _both_ deserve to be brides, you know.”

In the end, Sophia is still the one standing on the altar, while James sits several rows back. He’s only been to a handful of weddings in his life, so he doesn’t have much frame of reference, but Sophia is the most beautiful bride he’s ever seen. Francis seems to agree, considering how he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her the entire ceremony, eyes wide and lips parted. Sophia hasn’t stopped looking at him, either. She’s been smiling the entire time. As they recite their vows, James feels a swell of affection for both of them, finding joy in their own shared happiness.

And as everyone’s eyes are trained on the couple - Francis looking so handsome in his dress uniform, Sophia glowing in her lovely dress - James does his damndest to tamp down his jealousy; to be happy with sitting in the pews as a guest, while a beaming Francis takes his new wife by the arm and Sophia laughs on her way down the altar, veil gently fluttering behind her.

* * *

The first thing that Francis does, once they return home after the long wedding reception in Lady Jane’s home, is hold James’ face and kiss him firmly on the mouth.

“Francis!” he laughs once they pull away.

Francis laughs with him, pushing a stray hair behind his ear. “Yes, James?” he says with a mischievous little grin. James swats him on the arm, still smiling at him.

Sophia chooses that moment to come up to them. “And where is _my_ kiss, Captain Crozier?” She’s even got a bit of a pout. James can’t remember seeing Francis laugh this much, as he drops one hand from James’ cheek to cup the back of Sophia’s neck, and all that James can feel is warmth from somewhere deep in his chest as he watches them kiss.

After a few more kisses shared among the three of them - even one or two between James and Sophia, the both of them giggling once they part, Sophia’s cheeks flushed as she holds his hand - James begins to head toward the parlour. He isn’t expecting Sophia to yank him back, quickly link their arms, and pull them in the direction of the stairs.

He blinks at her. “What are we-?”

“Don’t worry, I just need your help with something.” She pats him on the arm, before grabbing her discarded veil from the hallway table. “Francis, go wait in the parlour, we’ll be there in a moment!”

Francis is already heading in that direction. “Of course, of course. Take your time.” As James lets himself be led upstairs, the two of them make eye contact, and he recognizes the little glint in Francis’ eye.

Ah. Whatever this is, he and Sophia had planned it, though James has no idea what that might possibly be. Knowing the two of them, he figures it’s best to go along with it. Sophia’s smiling makes it easy to do.

When she leads them to James’ room - a place he only ever uses to store his clothes and a few other belongings, as he spends nearly all of his nights in his and Francis’ room (and now Sophia’s, too, and isn’t _that_ a thought) - James isn’t sure what to expect. It’s not the parcel at the foot of his bed, the strings tying it together undone by whoever opened it first, though the lid’s been put back on.

When he turns to Sophia, she looks almost… nervous, but she urges him toward it anyway. “Go on,” she says, placing her veil on his vanity. “It’s a gift. From Francis and I.”

“Shouldn’t the bride and groom receive gifts, not give them?”

“James…”

“ _Alright_ , I’m opening it,” he says, and now _his_ voice sounds nervous, which is ridiculous. It’s just a gift from two of the most important people in his life. That’s something he should be happy about.

He realizes that it’s a garment once he lifts the lid, though the thing is covered in several layers of paper. He’s careful with the wrapping, making guesses in his head (a rational part of his mind suggests, _a new suit?_ , while the hopeful part wishes for _a dress, a dress, please be a dress_ ) until he’s uncovered enough wrapping to see a peek of white silk. He freezes. The blinding white of it fills his vision.

Then she’s tearing at the rest of the paper, pulse quickened, mind going utterly blank as she finally reveals the pure white dress that Francis and Sophia have given her.

James isn’t sure how long she’s been staring - at the wide neckline with a single white, gleaming rose where the collar divides, the collar itself looking like layers upon layers of Argentan lace trim, a taffeta bow on the waistline where the rest of the dress is folded beneath the bodice - when Sophia takes a few steps towards her. “James?”

James can’t seem to make her mouth work, and she has to swallow several times before speaking. “You made me a wedding dress.” She sounds breathless. Her fingers hover over the expanse of white satin, but she can’t make herself touch it. She’s afraid to.

Sophia sighs somewhere behind her. “Francis was the one who ordered it, actually. I only gave him the idea.”

“Francis doesn’t know how to commission a dress, besides signing the order.”

“Well, I did that bit.” A pause. “Do you like it?” Oh, she sounds so nervous. 

James straightens up so fast that she’s almost dizzy, but she ignores it to rush to Sophia and wrap her arms around her, pulling her close. Sophia hugs back just as fiercely.

“I love it, it’s beautiful. Thank you. I- _Thank you_.”

Sophia laughs against James’ neck, then sniffles. “I _did_ say that you deserved to be a bride.”

James hugs her tighter. They stand there for some time, just holding each other; James can feel Sophia’s heartbeat, a comforting rhythm against her own. Eventually, they pull away, and don’t mention how they’re each rubbing at their eyes.

“Right,” says James, once she’s collected herself again. “Will… Would you help me put it on, then?”

Sophia beams up at her. “Of course, yes.”

It’s the first time that James has ever undressed in front of her. She’s hyper-aware of her body, in a way she usually isn’t around Sophia; her wounds had long healed over, though they’d scarred uglier the second time. The only people who had touched them since were doctors and Francis. The former was uncomfortable, while the latter was nothing but gentleness, a reverence that came from a man who’d once lifted James from her would-be deathbed and watched over her as those wounds became scars again. Sophia is seeing them for the first time, as James unbuttons her shirt with trembling fingers, slipping it over her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Sophia regards her for a moment. Her eyes stay above James’ waist, focused on her face, her chest. Her hand slowly raises toward the gunshot wound, the one that tried to kill James twice and failed. “Can I…?”

James just nods. Sophia’s fingertips move careful along the raised skin. She can barely feel the touch, the scar tissue gone numb, but she can see the gentleness in it. Sophia ends up covering the wound with her palm - and she must feel James’ heart beneath it, threatening to burst from her chest - before she trails her hand up to stroke her cheek. They look into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“Alright, then. Let’s get you dressed.”

* * *

It’s been far longer than a moment by the time they get to the parlour. Francis practically jumps from his chair once the door opens; he turns to face them, then stills, mouth open. James takes it as a compliment.

The neckline leaves her shoulders and collar exposed. She’d put on a pearl necklace to make up for it, a pretty thing that she’d gotten years ago. At the waist the fabric is pulled in to form billowing folds, making a curved silhouette, with a delicate bow holding it together. Underneath is an underskirt of almost pearlescent watered silk that shimmers as she steps into the room. The ruffles of lace that make up the neckline are so delicate and fine, like curls of snowflakes against her shoulders, and she knows that Sophia had a personal hand in it. It was undoubtedly every bit as expensive as the other dress. Sophia helped with her hair - which had grown longer, as of late - and put it into a bun, which was then covered by Sophia’s veil, now pinned to James’ hair with a few clever pins. There are _tiny sapphires_ in her hair. She's lovely. Sophia had grinned at her through James’ mirror, clearly proud with her work.

With the awed look on Francis’ face, he certainly seems to appreciate it. “There you are,” he says, to both of them, voice soft. “My wife and wife.” Sophia laughs and kisses James’ cheek.

_If this continues_ , James thinks distantly, skin warm where her arm is linked with Sophia’s, _I’ll melt from happiness before our wedding night_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the references for James' dress [here](https://cdn.themindcircle.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Brides-before-1900-7.jpg), and Sophia's over [here](https://cdn.themindcircle.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Brides-before-1900-2.jpg)!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [diydumpsterdiving](https://diydumpsterdiving.tumblr.com/) if ya wanna chat about anything Terror-related ~~or help me and Zoe as we single-handedly carry this ship on our back like a giant turtle in a Terry Pratchett novel~~.


End file.
